


Date Night

by subtropicalStenella



Series: SWR: PTAU [11]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Babysitting, Date Night, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 07:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella
Summary: Answering multiple requests for Ezra & Jacen shenanigans. Babies are actually pretty easy of you know what you're doing.





	Date Night

Jacen is a pretty easy baby. I mean, part of that is because he's still in the phase where all he wants in the world is 1) a bottle 2) a clean diaper 3) something shiny, moving or both to entertain him 4) someone to hold him 5) assistance passing gas

He's also in the phase where the entirety of his independent locomotion is enthusiastic but ineffectual attempts to scoot in the general direction of whatever aforementioned thing he wants. So it's not exactly difficult to keep track of him.

Of course the Obvious Question is “OMG WHAT IF HE CRIES?!” 

Did you go through the list?

“YES!!”

 

Then just tough it out because here's the thing: he has literally 3 months of life experience, so that weird vaguely unpleasant feeling of like, a fart moving around in your guts while it finds its way out? For him it's  _ literally the worst thing to ever happen to him, ever.  _ Someone bundled him up a bit too much so he's got a little swamp-ass going on?  _ The fires of hell have nothing on his torment, people. Never has nor shall there ever be a person so hot and itchy as he is, right now.  _ It's been more than three hours since his last feeding?  _ His is the hunger of Gl’bgolyb, Emissary to the HorrorTerrors, all shall hear his cries. _

So you just kinda deal. Luckily genuine Mystery Crying is rare, so 'babysitting’ usually just means propping his swaddled self up against Chopper or between me and the couch arm. He is the only person in the house allowed to use Chopper as a backrest/pillow/squeeze toy. Chopper is usually on booger patrol and Jacen thinks this is hilarious. 

He alternates between babbling at me, sleeping, and pooping, and I do my homework.

And by homework I mean “play Destiny with the sound off.” He likes watching me play my warlock and has serious opinions about Void spec. They are wrong, but again, he's three months old. 

 

It's a little after 1a, and I'm debating on attempting to move Cat's front half off his stomach transfer his conked-out butt to his crib, or just crashing on the couch with him tucked towards the inside because he'll be up in a couple hours demanding sustenance anyway, when the cab pulls up. The cab  _ shouldn't  _ be pulling up this late. The plan was they'd either be home before midnight or they'd be getting a hotel room because it's their first “real” date since Jacen was born. I can hear them laughing from the driveway, all the way up the walk, with Caleb attempting to shush Hera over the jingle of keys, the louder jingle of keys  _ falling  _ and Caleb saying “Dammit woman, if you want me to unlock the door I  _ have _ to put you down,” but he sounds absolutely adoring over Hera’s sad,  _ whining  _ “Noooo, no,  _ no. _ I will get them.”

 

Okay this is hilarious.

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Completely deadpan, still disgustingly fond.

“I'm fucking yoooou.”

Ew.

“Not at this rate you're not.”

“Then get the keeeeys.”

She is  _ hammered. _

“I don't have enough hands, Hera.”

_ “I am your hands.” _

And now she's directing him towards the keys, like  _ left, down, down more, NO TOO FAR _ ,  _ warmer, right, waaaarmer…  _

 

She sounds disappointed when I just open the door for them, and she's piggybacked on Caleb, wearing his suit jacket with her Little Black Dress hiked up over her fishnets. He's carrying her LifeHacked “””Louboutins””” (Treat yourself to nice $80 heels and paint the soles red. BOOM. $8000 heels) in one hand under her knee, and bent over/half crouched awkwardly to keep her steady while she reaches for the keys.

 

I just kinda stand in the doorway. Tap my foot a little.

 

“I feel like there's been a bit of a role reversal,” Caleb snickers.

“So you  _ are  _ aware of how late it is.”

“It's not  _ that _ late,” Hera grumbles.

“We were going to do the hotel thing, but Captain Sexy here overdid it a little.”

Hera rolls her eyes and her head with them. “I had  _ three _ glasses of wine.”

“Which is three more than you've had in literally a year.”

Hera responds by kicking her heels into Caleb's thighs like she's spurring a horse. Unsurprisingly, he walks forward into the house, stepping a little too high and far over the threshold to compensate for his unevenness due to being a pony.

 

“I don't see how that makes a difference as to whether or not you could get a hotel.”

 

Caleb shakes his head a bit so he can “look” over the top of his shades. White again. “She likes my waffles when she's hungover, and apparently hotels are 'boring.’”

“Wasn't the point of y’all  _ getting a room  _ to ensure that the evening was, y’know. Not boring?” 

 

And nobody here is thinking about the “Go out for fondue! It's fun and fancy and relatively easy for Caleb to manage without accommodation!” part. I'm not stupid, I can guess what put Caleb in such a good mood after Hera’s last postpartum checkup.His open shirt collar and the lipstick all over it was another hint.

 

“Yes, but  _ hotels _ don't have--”

“Things Ezra doesn't need to know about,” Caleb says, loudly, drowning her out and preserving what’s left of my sanity. 

“I'm tipsy, love, not  _ wasted,  _ I wasn't going to  _ tell _ him about--”

_ “Anything.”  _

She grabs the top of his head by his hair, blows a raspberry into his temple, and winks at me. Yeah, part of it's an act for Caleb and it's kind of sweet but I roll my eyes anyway. He probably knows, too, but I'm starting to understand that part of marriage, what they have and why it works, is indulging each other's stupid indulgences of each other. If that makes sense? It's simultaneously gross and deeply enviable.

 

“Just keep it down, okay? I’m already thoroughly corrupted and I can put headphones in, but think of Jacen and his poor innocent ears.”

_ “Yes.  _ He has the best ears. They're my ears,” Hera announces, distracted, which was the intent. It's a family in-joke that the only thing Jacen got from Hera was her ears, Caleb's genes kicked the crap out of hers with regards to everything from bone structure, complexion  _ and  _ hair texture to eye color, even if Jacen's are more blue than his used to be.

Caleb, however, snorts skeptically. “Oh,  _ we're  _ the ones with the discretion problem?”

 

Uh oh.

 

“Does Jai’s Mom know how many times he's stuck in your window or out onto the roof _this month_ _alone?”_

 

Hera cracks up, stifling her laughter with both hands and Caleb's shoulder. 

 

“Because  _ we _ do,” he continues, and hoists Hera a little more securely onto his hips.

“Glass houses, kid,” Hera sing-songs, and waves backwards over her shoulder as Caleb carries her upstairs. “But don't worry, I'll keep him quiet!”

_ “Hell _ yes.”

_ Ew. “Gross,  _ guys.”

“You're the one that brought it up!”

 

I am  _ so  _ sleeping downstairs.


End file.
